Chapter 568: Let

It was 8:26 p. m.

In the southern Federation, Deer River Manor.

Tonight, the place was lively.

A red carpet was laid on the lawn, the glass walls of the banquet hall were polished to a shine, and the long tables were filled with wine and desserts.

People in formal attire came and went, glasses in hand, discussing the new law, the Suppress Spook Bullet, and the market gap left after the Spirit Wardens' families were purged.

Many said the times had changed, yet they had already divided up the new betting pools among themselves.

The manor's owner was named He Yunting.

A philanthropist, a collector, and the vice president of the Southern Chamber of Commerce.

His résumé was clean enough to be used as a promotional video.

But in the Investigation Bureau's internal files, he had another designation.

He was the central hub in the Spirit Wardens' black‑market money‑laundering chain.

Tonight's banquet was nominally a celebration of the enactment of the Spirit Wardens Special Management Act.

In reality, its purpose was to reconnect whatever resources each faction could still muster.

In a corner of the banquet hall, a fat man raised his glass, laughing so hard his teeth showed.

"Everyone, don't panic. Tie Mian's down, Ma Desheng's down—that's just their stupidity."

Someone nearby lowered their voice.

"The Suppress Spook Bullet has been issued to the grassroots; even ordinary policemen can use it. This thing is truly sinister—even an A‑Ji can't withstand it."

The fat man waved a hand.

"Technology has its limits. No matter how advanced, you still have to pull the trigger. Before you pull the trigger, you need to stay on your feet."

A few people got it and laughed.

He Yunting held a glass of red wine, seated at the center of the main table.

He was in his early sixties, his hair dyed jet black, and he wore a string of old wooden beads on his wrist.

Whenever someone came over to toast, he would first clink glasses, then offer two courteous remarks about their elders.

He had employed this demeanor for thirty years.

Very steady.

Quite effective.

Outside, the manor's perimeter guards had already rotated for the third shift.

Security Captain Zhou Shuo stood in the monitoring room, eyes fixed on twelve screens.

He was a retired special‑operations officer and had recently taken part in live‑fire training for the Suppress Spook Bullet.

The training instructor had once said something.

Ordinary people finally had the qualification to pull the trigger on monsters.

Zhou Shuo liked that line.

In the past, when Spirit Wardens caused trouble, ordinary security was just for show—if you were tough, you might last three extra seconds.

Now it's different.

The magazine was loaded with red‑tipped rounds.

Each one bore a serial number from the Investigation Bureau.

As soon as a target entered the firing line, any B‑Ji or lower would be disarmed on the spot, and even an A‑Ji would have to drop to one knee, gasping.

Zhou Shuo rested his hand on his waist‑holster, feeling reassured.

Tonight, everyone of note was present at the manor.

Nothing could go wrong.

But with this new equipment, whoever came would have to observe basic courtesy.

"Captain, there's activity at Gate Three."

The deputy moved closer to the screen.

Zhou Shuo looked over.

Outside the manor's main iron gate, a person had appeared by the roadside.

White clothing.

White Umbrella.

No vehicle, no attendants, no invitation.

It wasn't raining.

The umbrella was held overhead, its canopy clean, its ribs clean.

The man stood before the iron gate, peering through the bars at the manor's interior.

The surveillance feed was a bit blurry.

But his face was clear.

Young, quiet, with his eyelids slightly lowered.

Zhou Shuo frowned slightly.

"Zoom in."

The deputy worked the keyboard.

The image zoomed in.

The white‑clad man's gaze fell on the banquet hall's glass wall, where many people were raising their glasses.

Zhou Shuo felt distinctly uneasy about the way that man was looking at people.

Not provocation.

Also not afraid.

That person looked at the guests in the manor, no different from looking at patients in a ward with tubes inserted.

"Shout."

Deputy turned on the speaker.

The speaker above the iron door crackled with static.

"The private manor ahead, please leave the restricted area. Repeat, please leave the restricted area."

The white-clothed man didn't move.

Zhou Shuo picked up the walkie-talkie.

"Team One, Team Two, approach Gate Three. Safeties off, await orders."

"Received."

"Received."

Over ten security personnel surrounded from both sides.

Their steps were steady, muzzles lowered, fingers resting outside the trigger guard.

This is standard procedure.

First warn.

Then control.

If necessary, fire Suppress Spook Bullet.

Zhou Shuo stared at the screen, having already run through the contingency plan in his mind.

White clothing, white umbrella, no passage record.

High risk.

But a single person appeared, unarmed.

If they are a Spook Master, the Suppress Spook Bullet can suppress.

If they are ordinary, after control send to police station.

Not difficult.

Really not difficult.

Outside the iron gate, Lu Dou lifted the umbrella's brim.

The security's boots stepped on the ground, very uniform.

The muzzles were also uniform.

He saw those red warheads, his eyes showed no fluctuation.

Dongdao's lingering Happiness Rules have been compiled into the black shadow's body.

That rough smiley-face pollution originally only made people go mad, hurt others, destroy themselves.

Too wasteful.

Humanity's problem is not that they don't laugh.

It's that after laughing they still have to return to pain.

So we must change.

Start from expression.

Start from cognition.

Start from this manor.

Lu Dou doesn't care whether the people here are heinously evil.

Evil is merely a symptom.

Struggle, concealment, clinging, fear of loss—these are the lesions.

The people in the manor are more suitable as the first batch of samples than street vagrants.

They have abundant resources, wide connections, spread quickly.

They also love to film their lives for others to watch.

This is good.

Very much fits the dissemination need.

Before Gate Three, security captain Zhou Shuo had already brought people over.

Through the iron door, he raised his credentials.

"Sir, state your name. Put down the umbrella, raise your hands where we can see."

Lu Dou looked at him.

"You're very nervous."

Zhou Shuo didn't respond.

"Final warning, comply."

"Do you believe the gun in your hand can protect those inside?"

Zhou Shuo raised the muzzle half an inch.

"I won't discuss philosophy with you. Three seconds."

Lu Dou nodded.

"You're very responsible."

"Two."

It's a pity, the person in charge is usually the first to be consumed by the old order.

One.

Zhou Shuo's finger pressed toward the trigger.

In the monitoring room, the deputy stared at the screen, his Adam's apple moving.

He waited for the red warhead to fly out.

The whole net was hyping this thing.

Mortal trigger.

The ordinary person's version answer.

In the Investigation Bureau's promotional video, the Suppress Spook Bullet struck a B Ji Symbiont back to an ordinary person, and the barrage was filled with "Long live humanity".

The deputy also scrolled it.

He even scrolled it three times.

But in the picture, Zhou Shuo's hand stopped.

It wasn't hesitation.

It was the whole person stuck in place.

The dozen or so security guards behind him also stopped.

Heavy breathing came from the walkie-talkie.

The deputy froze.

"Captain?"

No response.

Zhou Shuo's pupils shrank sharply.

His facial muscles began to twitch.

First the corners of his eyes.

Then the nostrils.

Finally the lips.

That trained face was forcibly pulled into the shape of a smile.

Too neat.

【147) Also too painful.

It's too painful.

Zhou Shuo wanted to pull the trigger.

He could still think.

That was the most deadly.

He could clearly feel his hand lifting, the muzzle slowly moving away from the target outside the iron door, turning toward his own chin.

He wanted to curse someone.

He wanted to shout "open fire".

He wanted the deputy to cut the surveillance, not to look at his appearance.

But only laughter came out of his throat.

"Ha...... haha...... hahahaha......"

The first guard laughed.

The second also laughed.

A dozen or so people stood at the manor gate, laughing until their bodies trembled.

Zhou Shuo's eyes welled with blood spots.

He used all his strength to shift the muzzle a few inches to the side.

Lu Dou looked at him and spoke softly.

"You don't need to resist. Happiness will relieve you of your responsibility."

Zhou Shuo's hand was pulled back.

The muzzle pressed against his chin.

The red warhead had not yet entered the barrel.

The so-called weapon capable of suppressing A Ji Weirdness didn't even have the qualification to appear in this round of confrontation.

The deputy in the monitoring room finally reacted, lunging for the alarm button.

Before his hand could touch it, he also burst into laughter.

His teeth clenched together, and tears streamed down his face.

"Don't...... don't look at the screen......"

The latter half was swallowed by laughter.

Outside Gate Three, gunfire rang out in unison.

The violin performance in the banquet hall halted for half a beat.

Someone holding a wine glass turned around.

"What's the commotion?"

"A salute? Did Elder He arrange a program?"

"This program is pretty hardcore, the southern folks have so much face."

Someone joked.

The next second, the searchlight outside the glass wall swept across the ground.

Over a dozen security guards collapsed inside the iron door.

Blood spread out from beneath them.

A few who hadn't fallen were still laughing.

They shoved their guns into their mouths and pulled the trigger.

The banquet hall fell silent for a brief moment.

Then screams erupted.

Cups crashed to the floor.

Women lifted their skirts and backed away, men knocked over chairs, and waiters flung their trays aside.

He Yunting rose to his feet.

His first reaction was not to flee.

but to look at the private bodyguards stationed at the four corners of the hall.

Those bodyguards were all remodeled low-rank Weird Controllers.

Their filed records were fake.

The cost was high.

Tonight they were originally supposed to deal with undercover agents from the Investigation Bureau.

He Yunting suppressed his voice.

"Close the doors, activate the inner defenses. Don't let that thing outside get in."

The butler produced a tablet, his fingers trembling.

"Sir, the authorization for Door Three has dropped out. The monitor is also glitching."

"Then do it manually."

He Yunting stared at the white umbrella outside the window.

He began to calculate in his mind.

A new Weird?

Or an unregistered S-rank Weird Controller?

He has survived to this day not because of courage, but because of judgment.

If we can talk, we talk.

If we can't talk, we use others as a shield.

The banquet hall doors locked.

Heavy alloy plates lowered from the wall seams, covering the glass walls.

Several bodyguards stood in front of He Yunting.

The fat man, who had been mocking Iron Face moments ago, was now crouched under the table.

"Old He, you said this security was top-of-the-line for the Federation, didn't you?"

He Yunting glanced at him.

"Shut up."

"No, I spent twenty million on an admission ticket, yet there's no safe passage—isn't that consumer fraud?"

"Someone nearby burst out, 'What time is this, and you're still defending your rights?!'"

The fat man clung to the table leg.

"What else can I do if I don't stand up for myself? I can't fight!"

That remark made many people even more panicked.

The alloy plates fully descended.

The banquet hall became a sealed space.

He Yunting relaxed slightly.

The inner defenses can withstand rocket rounds.

The ventilation system has independent filtration.

Communications run via underground fiber optics.

If we hold out for fifteen minutes, the Southern Investigation Bureau branch will arrive.

He has connections.

He also has leverage.

This game is still playable.

But the large screen in the center of the hall lit up.

That screen had originally been playing a charity gala promotional video.

The picture jumped a few times, turning into a standard smiling face.

White background.

Black eyes.

Red lips.

Proportions neat.

No sense of contamination; it even looks a bit like a children's program icon.

A muscle twitched in the butler's face.

"Who opened the screen?"

No one answered.

The smile on the screen became clearer.

A female celebrity sitting in the front row suddenly covered her mouth.

She didn't want to laugh.

She had just finished a facial treatment today, and her contract stipulated that she must not show uncontrolled expressions.

But her lips lifted on their own.

The agent beside her panicked.

"Sis, don't play abstract; now isn't the time to go viral."

The female celebrity turned her head.

Her teeth sank into the agent's finger.

The agent froze for half a second, then screamed.

This ignited the hall.

Someone began to laugh loudly.

Someone stabbed toward the neighboring seat with a fork.

Someone clutched a beer bottle and knocked it against their own forehead.

Several bodyguards rushed toward the screen, raising their guns to fire.

The screen shattered.

The smile remained.

Each shard of the shattered screen reflected the same smile.

He Yunting stepped back half a step.

His wooden beads broke, and the beads rolled all over the floor.

The Captain stepped forward, growling: "Don't look! All of you, bow your heads!"

As soon as he spoke, he himself started laughing.

It wasn't because he saw the screen.

But because he heard the laughter.

The medium of transmission is not just visual.

He Yunting finally understood that the alloy plate was meaningless.

The filtration system was meaningless.

Money was meaningless.

They had locked themselves into a box that was easier to handle.

In the hall, someone knelt on the ground begging for mercy.

Another person cried out, "I just came to eat; I haven't even been served the main course!"

The fat man crawled out from under the table, his face covered in cold sweat.

He covered his mouth, trying to suppress the laughter with his weight.

It didn't work.

His fingers were bitten through by teeth, yet laughter still squeezed out from between them.

"Stop laughing...... I have a low laugh threshold, but not this low......"

Lu Dou held up the White Umbrella and walked outside the banquet hall.

The alloy plate blocked the way.

He did not break down the door.

He simply raised his hand, fingertips pressing against the metal surface.

The chaos inside transmitted through the wall.

He listened very attentively.

These people feared death.

They feared losing their status.

They feared being dragged down by their own kind.

Lu Dou sorted through these emotions, placing them into the new rules.

Happiness is not an emotion.

Happiness is order.

As long as everyone maintains the same expression, the same need, the same direction, conflict will diminish.

Pain will also diminish.

As for the self,

The self was originally one of the sources of pain.

In the banquet hall, He Yunting grabbed the steward's lapel.

"Contact Duke Wei! Contact the Investigation Bureau! Tell them there's a new S Ji contamination source!"

The steward grinned, tears smearing half his face.

"Sir...... the call went through......"

He Yunting seized the communicator.

A busy tone came from inside.

Then came a young man's laugh.

It wasn't Lu Dou.

That laughter grew more mixed, more dirty, mixed with many people's crying.

The communicator's screen lit up.

Below the white smiley face, a line of text appeared.

Welcome to join Happiness.

He Yunting's hand trembled.

He has seen many scenes in his life.

Business encirclement, black market deals, spellcasters losing control, Investigation Bureau raiding homes.

Each time, he could find someone to negotiate price with.

But this time, no one bid.

And no one negotiated.

The other side merely delivered the result to him.

In the hall's center, the smiley faces on the broken screens began to merge.

A black shadow crawled out from the circuit boards and glass shards.

It had a white ring hovering above its head, and its body was covered with standard smiley faces.

Every face was smiling.

Every face was straining hard.

The guests who had been tearing at each other stopped, lifted their heads, and looked at it.

The smiles on their faces became neat.

Even those who were crying stopped crying.

He Yunting was held down by two bodyguards on his shoulders.

The bodyguards no longer obeyed orders.

They laughed as they lifted his head, letting him see the face at the very center of the black shadow.

That face opened its mouth.

No human voice.

Yet it made all communication devices display text simultaneously.

The first batch of Happiness samples, confirmed.

Outside the manor, Lu Dou withdrew his hand.

From inside the alloy plate came orderly laughter.

He propped up the white umbrella, turned, and left the end of the red carpet.

The surveillance in front of the iron gate was still running.

In the image, the white‑clothed man walked three steps, then suddenly stopped.

Lu Dou raised his head, looking toward the camera.